Beauty
by ChiaraStorm
Summary: A continuation of the movie, following Jack and Ann as they adjust after the death of Kong.
1. Chapter I: It's Not About Words

This is the first chapter of my King Kong story, based on the 2005 movie.I absolutely fell in love with it, and knew instinctively I'd end up writing some fanfiction for it, sooner or later. In reality, it was sooner.

I'd love some feedback – all constructive comments would be greatly appreciated.

I hope to have the next chapter up in a week or so. I would also kill for a beta, so if anyone is interested, please email me (link in my profile).

**Disclaimer: **I am not in anyway affiliated with King Kong or any of the characters. Hey, don't you think my neighbours would notice if I started keeping a 25ft ape in my back garden?

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**Chapter I: It's Not About Words**

The sky was disrupted, the purity of its beauty gone, diminished. It had passed the transition point of dawn and was now completely daylight. It had chosen a side. Things weren't meant to stay in limbo.

Now there was no limbo. There was no midpoint. It had happened, and the silence of the aftermath was deafening. The wind whistled around the building's peak, the only sound on the air. The planes had gone, what was left of them, without looking back. No remorse. No thought about the life they had just taken. Nothing.

The noise below on the streets could not taint the pure silence up here. Below, people screamed, flashbulbs went off, reporters cried out questions, children screamed in wonder and naiveté and cops barked out orders, trying to restore some sort of order, even though the natural order had already been tipped.

Up on the plateau, a façade of serenity reigned. Everything was still, the building preserved in concrete and the two people holding onto each other, a single entity. The cold was unable to touch them, as they clung to each other for dear life. If they let go of each other, they would fall, both literally and metaphorically. In the figurative sense, if they let go of each other, they would fall apart because whilst they were this close, shielding each other, they could deny what had just happened. They could secretly close their eyes and delude themselves into thinking that when they opened them, none of this would have happened.

They were out of time. Every passing minute felt like an hour, a day, a year, almost indefinable. Nothing seemed to change. It was as though they ingrained themselves into the unforgiving steel and concrete of the building, removed from life below, but so obvious that they couldn't be missed.

The cold seeped into Jack's bones, and yet he didn't want to move. Not yet. He had to stay in this position, just to convince himself that it was real. Ever since he saw Kong take Ann, he'd been holding back the fear in his mind, blocking it out so that he could use judgement and rationality to try and resolve the situation. It almost surprised him, what he'd done. He wasn't the hero. He was the person who watched, observed, and noted it all down with a few strokes of a pen or a few taps on a typewriter. He wasn't used to being the hero, but he'd done it almost without thinking.

It must have depended on who the heroine was.

When he'd seen Ann on the roof, just seconds after Kong fell, everything seemed to stop. She'd looked delicate, fragile even, with the glittery jewels in her hair and ears, and the long silvery white dress that showed her almost translucent skin. He could see through that though. He knew just how strong she was.

She'd turned around then, and he could see the tears in her eyes. They looked strange, running down her porcelain face. Her face told him everything. She wasn't crying out of self-pity, or anger, or hysterical shock. She was crying because no-one else would cry for the death of Kong. She was the only person who could ever see through him for what he was, an animal, as capable of compassion as any animal. She was the only person who could bring out that in him, a curiosity coupled with a desire to protect her.

He wished he could say something. Something to sum up everything that had happened. To make her realise how strong he thought she was. To make her understand how glad he was to see her okay and safe. To make her recognise what he felt. But his mouth was dry and no words seemed to come out.

All Jack could do was to hold her. Protect her. And so they slipped out of time again, no thoughts or ideas running through either of their heads, just standing, in a silent sentinel for the end of a king. For the end of beauty.

Without warning, an unexpected sound rent the air, and the sound of it made the wind die down, greeting the new noise cautiously and curiously. It was a sob. There was no sound as human, as natural as that noise, and with it the ice around them started to melt, taking them back into time. The sudden feelings of pain, death and regret became almost tangible to the two of them, every emotion overwhelming their drained bodies. Still, they didn't break their position. Ann felt as though if she tried to stand on her own, she would fall down. She wanted to close her eyes and block everything out, but she couldn't. When she closed her eyes, all she saw was Kong falling backwards, blood seeping from the bullet wounds in his chest…

"I did this to him," she said, breaking the silence, her words coming out breathlessly and yet calmly, her voice hollow and flat. "It's my fault."

What can you say to something like that?

"No," Jack breathed, willing her with every fibre of his being to rid herself of that thought. He wished he could just purge her of it, make her forget it. He knew though that nothing he could say would make it happen. "No, it wasn't your fault."

"It was me," she said with conviction. "He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. If I hadn't gone on that stupid voyage he'd never have met me. He'd never have come to New York and been shot down by planes–" here, another, smaller sob escaped her lips, but she controlled herself and continued speaking calmly. "It's all my fault. All of it."

"No, it's not. He didn't come because of you. He came because of a greedy man who would kill his own mother if he thought a film company would buy the idea. Believe me Ann, it's not your fault. You made his life better because you cared about him and tried to save him."

She sobbed once more, burying her face in his shoulder, but he could feel her breathing calm, and her back stopped heaving and she relaxed. He pulled her closer in to him, feeling her heavy glittery earrings digging into his collarbone, but he didn't want her to move.

"Ann–" he whispered then stopped. He didn't know how to say what matters. He thought it would be easier; when he sits down with a pen in his hand, it all flows more naturally than breathing. Now though, he felt like a character in one of his plays, at the whim of a force beyond his control. He only knew that he had to say something, to relieve the pressure building up within him.

"What?" she asked, her eyes meeting his. He knows then, that the words don't matter.

"It's not about words," he said, half to her, but half to himself. Ann recognised the phrase from one of their first conversations on the SS Venture. She almost wanted to ask him what he meant, but something stops her. Instead, she leaned her face in, closer to his, feeling the softness of his lips. The kiss between them was gentle, but it sent warmth through her veins, like liquid fire, melting her last strains of denial and numbness. She became acutely aware of his hands on her back, and her body against his. Every nerve in her body seemed to be functioning three times faster than usual, sending shocks down her spine.

She was human again. Not a machine, locked into a cycle of hardness and guilt, but a human, able to love and move on. She still felt the guilt and raw pain caused by the death of Kong, but she knew she wasn't alone.

The sky burnt the pure pink-orange of dawn. It seemed like the world could at least still appreciate beauty.

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Please review! 


	2. Chapter II: You Don't Have to Be Nervous

**LadyOfThieves – **What do you mean, maybe? (grins) That's one of my favourite lines actually. You would make a good Oscar winner actually (random thought...). Sorry, I think I'm still a little high on Diet Coke from Saturday…thanks for reviewing anyway!

**Phillip the Nickel** –I'm really glad you liked the description – that's the bit I was most worried about, actually! Thank you for your review!

**LordLanceahlot – **Wow! I'm so glad you liked it. And thank you for putting this story into your C2 community. If you ever need staff, you have a willing employee here!

**PA** – Thank you! Your review really brightened up my day (send hugs and e-chocolate).

I am absolutely shattered, so I'll be amazed if any of this makes sense. On Friday, I saw Walk the Line again with six friends and to avoid paying extortionate prices for food we bought it at another, cheaper shop. The problem was that we had £10 of food and we had to hide it as we went in. That was entertaining. Then, yesterday, I had a LOST party (basically, people came over and watched LOST). Then, today, I had free tickets to a showing of The Constant Gardener. Which rocked (it's the third time I've seen it). And now, I am listening to the Walk the Line soundtrack and falling asleep, so I'd better end this author's note.

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

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**Chapter II: You Don't Have to be Nervous**

They managed to climb down from the spire without incident, getting back into the building through one of the smashed windows. The walls inside were bullet-ridden. It looks as though a giant picked up the building and shook it around, Jack thought, but wisely didn't say. In fact, neither of them said anything until they were in the elevator on the way down.

"That's twice now," Ann said suddenly.

"Twice?"

"Twice that you protected me," The words didn't come easily to Ann, as she wanted to say so much more, but the sincerity of her tone made up for the lack of originality in her words. "Thank you."

In her eyes, Jack could see the same expression she wore when they first talked properly.

_He was far too lost in thought to notice anything that was happening around him. Every now and again, the ship shook violently, but he didn't seem to become aware of it. _

_He didn't even notice Ann coming the other way down the corridor until the ship shook again, and the two of them nearly fell over, which put Ann into his line of vision. However, the ship's movement didn't seem to affect her that much. _

"_Good legs..." he muttered out loud, without really thinking about what he was saying. Ann suddenly looked at him, utterly caught off-guard and confused. _

"_Sea legs…sea legs," he said, trying to rectify the situation. "Not that you don't have good legs..." The surprised and reluctant feelings coming from Ann were almost audible, though she didn't say anything. "Just trying to make a conversation. Jesus..." he said in an honest invocation to Christ. "Ms. Darrow, about the, uh, scene today with you and Bruce…"  
_

"_I know it wasn't what you wrote," she put in, guessing his point. "But Mr. Baxter felt very strongly that when a man likes a woman...he must ignore her...and if things turn really hostile then..." She trailed off, seeing Jack's reaction. "No?"_

_  
"Interesting theory, uh..." he said as neutrally as possible, trying to think of something reassuring to say. _

_  
Hesitating, Ann added "I know, I should've..."_

"_It wasn't what I had intended, but..."_

"_I'm sorry, I was..."  
_

"_You made it your own." he stated honestly. It was definitely a scene he could now see no-one else acting, apart from her. _

_  
"I...I was nervous..." she said cautiously, not sure if he was being complimentary or not. _

_  
"It was funny, actually. You were funny."_

_  
The effect of those two sentences was swift and surprising. The glow faded from her face, and she moved back towards her cabin. "Please...don't say another word..."_

_  
"Ms. Darrow..." She turned around from the doorway to her cabin to face him, her eyes meeting his. "You don't have to be nervous."_

The look in her eyes at that moment, profound, a mixture of worry and a sort of serenity, matched the one she wore now.

The elevator ground to a halt. The arrow over the sliding doors slid down to zero. Jack glanced at Ann worriedly. Her pale porcelain skin was even whiter than usual, and her blue eyes were wide. Her hand – still slightly calloused and rough from her time on the island – found its way into Jack's, and his reassuring grip comforted her.

The door pinged open, and he looked at Ann briefly.

"Are you ready?"

She shook her head, dishevelling her already windswept golden hair even more. "I don't think I'll ever be ready."

Jack gripped her hand a little tighter, and kissed her swiftly, before the doors opened. Once they pulled apart though, she still kept a firm grip on his hand.

The cold air outside the building hit the two of them like a shock. In many ways, it was colder and more distant than it had been on the very top of the building because of the people milling about. Even though people were physically close to the body of the beast, they acted like scavengers, walking over his body like it was so much inferior rubbish, climbing over his limbs to get pictures and to prove to themselves and the world that he had been conquered, and there were even a few people cutting off tresses of Kong's rough, tough fur as evidence, holding it up like a trophy. Ann only caught glimpses of this, and she longed to see Kong's majestic face again, properly. She both wanted to shrink back into the shadow of the building and move forward towards Kong's body, but with Jack's hand in hers like an anchor, she could do neither. Instead, she moved a little closer to Jack, trying to convince herself that she was safe again.

Suddenly, like a shoal of fish, almost simultaneously, the reporters turned to the couple standing on the steps of the Empire State Building. There was a sudden rush of people towards Ann and Jack, and they were swallowed up in the crowd. Ann gripped Jack's hand tighter as the pressure of the journalists threatened to pull them apart. Without conscious thought, they involuntarily moved backwards until they were up against the solid wall of the building. Flashbulbs went off like tiny volcanoes spewing light, and unexpectedly Ann had a flash of what it was like to be Kong, backed up against a wall, unable to move and being blinded by relentless photographs. Jack forced his way through towards her, and she clutched him as though she was drowning in a sea of people and cameras and he was her lifeline. She turned her head away from the reporters and tried to look beyond the crowd and towards the fallen giant in the street, but there were too many people in the way. She inched herself up a little higher on her silver heels, trying to get a better view. It was only when she heard her name being called that she turned back towards the reporters.

"Ann! Ann – excuse me, out of the way – Ann!" Carl Denham pushed his way past the journalists using his usual tactics of false politeness and surreptitious violence.

"Are you okay Ann? Christ, what happened up there? Did Jack make it up there alright?"

"We're fine," Ann heard herself say, though the words came out sounding hollow and insincere. Carl must have picked up on that, because of the next thing he said.

"We'll get you out of here, I promise"

"Thank you," Jack replied, relief showing on his face at the thought of getting away from the crowds.

"No," Ann said quickly, but her voice was calm. "I want to see him."

Carl looked a little perturbed at the request. "Ann, I really don't think–"

"Please." Despite the wording, it was not a request. With a quick glance at Jack, Carl eventually nodded, and beckoned over a couple of policemen, who cleared a way through the crowd of reporters and spectators to Kong's body.

There was an audible hush as Ann knelt down by Kong's head. His eyes, still wide and staring, glared sightlessly at her, without emotion. Slowly, she touched his face, the fur cold and stiff beneath her fingers. It felt surprisingly harsh on her skin, as though all the gentleness he had shown her had now disappeared from his body with his departed spirit.

She slowly pulled down the lids on his unseeing eyes. The reverential way she did it diffused into the audience of people, and the chaos of the scene seemed to disappear. For once there was a moment of silence amongst the throng. None of the reporters even tried to snap a picture. Something about her movements suggested that it would provoke the same reaction as trying to take a photograph during a funeral.

Ann stood up slowly, her eyes still on the body of Kong. She knew know that she'd made some sort of peace with him. There was a sort of stillness inside of her, a part of her that knew that she could walk away from this scene without guilt for her part in his life.

Ann turned behind her, to Jack. She reached out and took his hand again, the two of them disappearing through the crowd silently.

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I hope my dialogue from the flashback was right…if anyone has a source to a transcript or anything, could they please tell me? Thanks!

Please review!


	3. Chapter III: One Moment is Enough

**LadyOfThieves** – It's true, I haven't memorised all three hours, only about two and three-quarters :) And yes, I'm scarily obsessed. You hadn't figured that out already?

**LordLanceahlot **– I hate the fact that links don't show up in reviews…can you email it to me? Because I need some shirtless Jack to cheer me up…I really want to apply for your C2, but at the moment I've got tons of exams coming up (stupid school…) Thanks for reviewing!

**Ermine aka Tree** – Again, it really sucks that links don't show up in reviews. Can you email it to me? I really want to see that clip! I'm glad the description's good, it's one of my weaknesses. Good to know I'm improving! Thanks for reviewing!

**Black Lumina Enchantress** – Great penname by the way! And thank you so much for your review, it really made my day! I felt like crying after seeing King Kong, and when I see it again I probably will :) Thanks for reviewing!

**Deathwing8** – Thanks for reviewing! Sorry I made you wait so long for an update!

**PA **– Ah, thank you! It's such a beautiful movie, it needs beautiful writing! I'm glad mine's up to the job! Thanks for reviewing!

I'm so sorry, I meant to update this much sooner, but I've been feeling ill recently, and I really wasn't in the mood to do anything productive. But I'm here now, right?

I have absolutely nothing intelligent to say (ill, head not working right) so I'll just let you read this chapter. Warning, it's really fluffy. But when was that ever a bad thing?

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**Chapter III: One Moment is Enough**

With every step away from the ape's body, Ann felt both better and worse. Better because she could put it out of her mind. Worse because she didn't feel that she wanted to put Kong out of her mind, tossing him out like so much garbage. Her whole life, people had been leaving her. Her mom had been a vaudeville girl, and her father had walked out on the both of them before Ann had even seen the light of day. Their relationship had been fractured at best, and when she'd been left on her own at thirteen, Ann had convinced herself that she'd cope. And she had. She'd been part of a vaudeville act in a small, homey theatre with a tightly-knit cast who almost felt like her second family. But that had been both good and bad, as when people left, one after another, to move back to where the jobs were, and away from the stripped and poverty-stricken city, the loss had felt like a hole that would never heal.

And now Kong…

Manny was right. The people she loved always let her down.

But how could that be true, when walking next to her was someone who had never given up on her?

Or was that it?

The thought made her stop in the street suddenly.

"Ann," Jack asked, "what is it?"

"Why did you come up there?" she asked, her voice soft but there was a firmness in it which could not be ignored.

"Because–" he began, then stopped. Whenever a character had something important to say, he could write it, then rewrite it, then continue to make changes right up until the opening night. With this he could only say it once.

He had to get it right.

"Because I love you."

Whatever reaction he was expecting from Ann, he didn't get it. She seemed to look everywhere other than at him, and her whole body stiffened in a way that was barely perceptible, but to someone who had worked in theatre, even the most insignificant movements spoke volumes.

Internally, Ann's heart was going a mile a minute. She hadn't known or expected that at all. She knew that she loved him, but she was just a vaudeville comedian. When she returned after the voyage, she would go back, hopefully have enough money to stave off starvation and eviction for a little while, and then return again to futile auditions and unopened résumés. Jack, she assumed, would go back to writing plays and living out his artistic life. Once they were back on dry land, she assumed that this would be over. The daydream would fade, and she'd have to return to her ordinary world, without adventure or romance. Just the mundane struggle to survive.

_Survive…just survive…_

She almost jumped; hearing Manny repeating his familiar mantra about theatre life inside her head felt so real she could have believed that he was standing next to her. She'd planned her day-to-day life by that principle.

But, she realised, she didn't want to survive. She wanted to _live_. She wanted all of the passions and infatuations of a life well lived.

Ann looked up at Jack, meeting his eyes with her own. For once in her life, she was going to trust what her loyal heart told her instead of the cynical voice in her head.

She said nothing, but moved in and kissed him quickly, covering his mouth with her own. The feeling of her own heart pounding was all the confirmation that she needed to know that she had made the right choice.

Heat was generated in all the places that their bodies touched, and Ann shivered, not because of the cold wind whipping through her thin white chorus dress, but because of the knot of warmth sliding down her back. She could feel every beat of her heart, pulsing in her veins, and it made her feel more alive than ever.

"Good," she said softly, pulling apart from their kiss, her warm breath just tickling his cheek. "Because I love you too."

There was no time to decipher any subtext. She was sick of subtext. She wanted too say it and so she said it. And it was the truest and most liberating thing she had said in a long time. She meant it more sincerely than anything else she had ever said. And it rang out, her sincerity, in every syllable.

She didn't know how long they stood there, embracing in the snow and cold. She only knew that the serenity around them shattered, as the sound of a flashbulb cracked in the distance. Ann pulled back, remembering with a shock the flashbulbs that cracked around Kong's body as he lay, broken, on the hard, unfeeling concrete outside the Empire State Building. The mere sound brought back a torrent of emotions and stripped all other good feeling away, and she suddenly almost felt like her head was swimming. A sudden sense of deep urgency gripped her stomach, and it was hard to believe that a second ago she had been standing with her arms wrapped around the man she loved. The cold started to seep into her bones again, and she felt older than she had a minute ago.

"Let's go." Jack said softly, seeing her vulnerability. It didn't suit her. Ann Darrow was not a vulnerable person, but he could guess the cause behind this sudden change in moods. It was hard to believe that just know she had been kissing him, telling him she loved him, and for a second, everything had felt stable and safe. However, they should both have known by now that stability was fleeting.

It was in both of their interests to stay as far away from reporters as possible. He didn't have to say this, as he knew just by the look in Ann's eyes that she was thinking the same thing.

"Where can we go?" Ann asked, equally softly, looking around like she expected a reporter to jump out behind one of the trash cans in the alley. This wasn't like her; she was tougher than this. She had to be, after years of fending for herself in a cut-throat industry. But after several of the most traumatising hours of her life, she was bound to feel a little jittery. She just wished she didn't.

"My apartment. It's only two streets away." Jack explained, and when Ann nodded, he took her hand and started to lead the way through the dark streets, which felt eerily calm after the chaos of the scene of Kong's rampage. They didn't say anything more, but there was nothing else to say. No subtext.

Jack's apartment was, as always, a mess. He had bits of paper, random parts of scripts all over the table and floor, coupled with whatever books he was reading at the moment and the remnants of what passed for food strewn about, left wherever he had last had it. He'd never really minded before, but suddenly he became conscious.

Ann suddenly smiled, without meaning to, at the scene before her. It was so quintessentially Jack, so typical of him that she smiled without thinking. This she could deal with. This sort of thing made sense to her, she could understand. Thinking about Kong made her head hurt, as well as her heart. Was he the last of his kind? Why had he fought so hard to keep her safe? There were too many questions, questions that rolled around the inside of her head incessantly ceaselessly.

"Ann," she heard Jack say. He'd been watching her, watching the shift in moods that was evident on her face.

"I just wish…" she started, and then trailed off. "I wish it was easier," she finished lamely, knowing the words were inadequate to describe what she was feeling, but also understanding that she wouldn't be able to describe it any better.

She could feel Jack's arms around her, and she encircled her own arms around his neck, taking comfort in the nearness of their bodies. She could be sure she was safe with him. And it was over – for today. There was still tomorrow, and Ann wasn't sure she'd make it through that. But she was still around to try.

And as the darkness enveloped them both, there was still that comfort between them, the joining of souls. Through the darkness, there was only light.

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Please review! 


	4. Chapter IV: Writing It For You

**Deathwing8 **– Thanks for reviewing! Glad the update was appreciated :)

**LordLanceahlot** – Wow, thank you! I'm glad you think it's well written, it's very fluffy, so the writing's about the only substantial thing in the whole fic ;) Thanks for reviewing!

**PA **– Thanks for reviewing! It's really nice to know that the ramblings of my deranged mind are well-received :)

**Ermine aka Tree **– Awful, isn't it? I can't stand the review system…but thank you for the link. There's another flashback in this chapter, and the clips really helped. Thank you! (hands out e-chocolate and King Kong cookies). Thanks for reviewing!

**LadyOfThieves** – Manny is the dude Ann is talking to at the beginning of the film, one of the vaudeville guys, remember? I don't blame you if you don't – it feels like we went to see it a very long time ago! I have absolutely no idea how you spell forgetful-whatever, that's what spellcheck's for! Speak to you soon – look up V for Vendetta!

Thank you for all your wonderful reviews, they really made getting through this week bearable. Sorry about the wait. I meant to update this earlier in the week, but I never found time to finish off the chapter. But hey, three updates for three fics can't be bad, right?

Warning, even more fluff in this chapter. But yeah, is that a problem? Really?

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**Chapter IV: Writing It For You**

Though Jack's apartment was not on a high floor compared to many others, the noise of New York waking up did not disturb them. Both Jack and Ann slept peacefully, unaware of the chaos of the city below. The sun rose high, and yet they both slept peacefully, contented in knowing, even in sleep, that the other lay close by.

When Ann woke up, she knew it was late in the morning because of the fragile winter sunlight that somehow managed to slip around the curtains and illuminate the room. However, she didn't feel the slightest inclination to move. It was warm under the blankets, and she could feel Jack's body next to hers, at the exact same temperature of her blood. It felt like they were one person, joined together permanently.

For once, she had slept without dreams. It was odd, for her. Even as a kid, she'd always been an incredibly lucid dreamer, to the point that she'd been scared to go to sleep when she was very young. Every nightmare she ever had was ten times more real than she ever thought was possible, every emotion seeming more intense in the darkness of her room when she woke up. And ever since they had brought Kong back from Skull Island, she hadn't been sleeping well – in fact, it could hardly be called sleeping. After his death, she half expected her subconscious to wake up at night and decide to torture her. But last night, she hadn't had any dreams at all. It was almost gratifying, and she never thought that the simple act of not dreaming would let her feel so refreshed.

Lazing about in bed wasn't a natural activity for her, and though she felt perfectly content where she was, she felt like she had to get up and do something. Sliding out of the bed, trying not to wake Jack up, she got to her feet and wandered through the apartment. She half-felt as though there was something she should be doing, but she didn't want to. A wonderful ethereal feeling was still making her head float, and doing something mundane and practical would kill that sensation for sure.

She wandered over to the typewriter. Everything around it was in a stage of perpetual chaos, with coffee rings staining bits of newspaper, and plates with old food abandoned on them were strewn about the place, as though he had lived at his typewriter for the last month or so. It wouldn't surprise her. Ann couldn't stop smiling as she looked at the disorder around her.

Clearing a space for her cup of coffee, she sat down, legs curled up so that she could rest her chin on her knees. Something in the seemingly never-ending pile of papers and plays caught her eye, and she gently shifted it out, doing her best not to dislodge the numerous other paperback novels and loose sheets of paper resting on top. It was a simple typed script, sheets of white pages covered with simple black type. It was all very familiar, and as Ann glanced at the yellow cover sheet, she knew for sure that she had seen this before. The title of the play gave it away; _Cry Havoc_. So he had finished it…

_He'd never finish it. _

_She was sorry to have to think like that, but it was true. She'd studied the guy's work for years, she wasn't the only one who considered him a genius. But what Jack Driscoll did were character studies. Dramatic plays. Psychological, even. A comedy seemed like an unusual change of pace. She couldn't blame him though. The Depression was hitting the country all over, and gritty character pieces wouldn't sell. The few people left that had the time and money to go to a play weren't going to want to see something that was going to capture the voice of the working class, they were going to want something to take their minds off the terrible poverty surrounding them. This sort of comedy would definitely draw in the small percentage of people who still could afford an evening at the theatre. Still, it wasn't exactly his usual style. On the other hand, the bit she'd skimmed was good. Actually pretty funny stuff. Not vaudeville by any means, but pretty funny. _

"_You're writing a comedy?" she said as a means of talking without having to give a comment. _

"_I'm writing it for you."_

_Ann froze slightly. That wasn't the response she had been expecting. "Why would you do that?" she asked, her voice sounding soft and breathy even to her. _

_"Why would I write a play for you?" Jack repeated the question. _

"_...Yes." _

"_Isn't it obvious?" Jack said quietly, almost so quietly that she couldn't hear it. _

"_Not to me..." Ann said, smiling to hide the fact that her heart had suddenly sped up for no apparent reason. _

_"Well...it's in the subtext..."_

"_I guess I must've missed it..." she replied, turning away slightly._

_There was a pause in which nothing was said, then Jack broke in, almost awkwardly, as though he wasn't sure how to put this into words. "It's not about words..."_

_Ann suddenly turned back to look at him, and she met his gaze. She could feel herself starting to flush, but she couldn't break his gaze. _

_He kissed her then. And she made no effort to push him away. _

A faint smile crossed Ann's face, remembering that kiss. Who'd have known it would end up being so life-changing. It felt like a lifetime ago, when she was still naïve enough to believe that everything in the world would come right with faith.

But then again, she was on the cusp of getting everything she had ever wanted. Wasn't that an example of the whole world coming right?

She heard movement in the next room, which knocked her out of her reverie. Turning towards the door, she saw Jack, hair rumpled from sleep and shirtless. It brought back memories of being on the Venture, and even though there were bits of that time that she'd rather forget, she would be quite happy to remember this view for the rest of her life – and she probably would.

"I was wondering whether you'd gone," he admitted, a roughness that gave away the fact that he had just woken up.

"Where would I go?" she asked, honestly surprised he might have even thought that.

"I know…it was stupid," he confessed. Ann could sense the slight embarrassment in his voice, and for some reason, that surprised her. She hadn't expected him to get embarrassed…well, ever, really.

"I was reading," she said, indicating the play. "You finished it."

"I had you as inspiration," he replied, bringing a small blush to her cheeks. She was used to plaudits – she'd worked in theatre – but hearing it from Jack was different.

"What are you working on now?" she asked.

"What makes you think I'm working on something?" he asked, humour in his voice.

Ann smiled too. "You're always working on something," she said, almost shyly. "You never seem to stop."

"Well," he began. "I was thinking of writing a love story. With such inspiration, I don't think I can fail."

"I thought you said you'd painted the stage with love," she teased, bringing to mind a conversation on the SS Venture,

"Not this sort of love."

There was a silence between them, but it was comfortable. Simple.

"I know what you mean," she said quietly. "Not like this."

For a moment, everything was still. And then, almost as though the thought entered their heads as one, they ended up back together, arms tight around one another, merging like one being. Ann could feel the warmth generated from Jack's body, and the rhythmic thumping of his heart, and she suddenly felt strangely alive.

"I like having you here," he said finally, breaking the comfortable, natural silence between them. "I like waking up with you."

"Is that a subtle ploy to get me back to bed?" Ann asked with a hint of humour in her voice.

"And if it is?"

"Then," she said grandly. "I'd be very happy to oblige." With a smile on her face, she tilted her head upwards eagerly to kiss her love, her heart on her lips.

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Please review! 


	5. Chapter V: Just A Little More Time

**LadyOfThieves** – I'm sorry m'dear, but shirtless Jack belongs to me! At least, he does in my mind…and no I am not mental! How dare you suggest such a thing! Just kidding ;) Love you too! See you on Friday hopefully!

**LordLanceahlot **– Yay! I have brought back hope! I know what you mean, there's not that much good JackAnn stuff about. I don't see why – the movie's only been out for a few months! But maybe when the DVD comes out it'll pick up again. Thanks for reviewing!

**Pontmercy** – Ahh, thank you! It really meant a lot to get a review from someone whose writing I love so much. Can't wait to read the next chapter of Wordsmith, by the way!

**PA** – I'm so sorry I've been away for so long! Thank you for your review, it really made my day. I'm glad that the fluff is cute – that's my intention! But I think JackAnn fluff is just terminally cute…not that that's a bad thing or anything!

**Deathwing8** – Thanks for reviewing! I love sweet JackAnn fluff, it's so much fun to write!

**Ermine aka Tree** – Yeah, I'm jealous of Ann too. That's why I totally want a shirtless Jack of my own. And I will soon, when I get the DVD…(insert witch's cackle here). And yes, there can never be too much fluff. Fluff is the life and soul of this fic! Thanks for reviewing!

**Pontmercy (again)** – Since you left two reviews, I figured I'd give you two responses! Yeah, I'm terrible at writing sex, so the edging around of it was really my way of getting around my old dilemma of 'why the hell can't I write a decent sex scene?'! Thank you so much for your (second!) review!

**Rebecca Ahlquist** – I'm pleased that you think that. Thanks for reviewing!

I'm sorry, I am a terrible person. I get such lovely reviews, but I still don't update for two weeks. I'm really sorry. I suck. But I'm here now, right?

On a lighter note, I've got a plan for this story now. I think it'll be able 15 chapters. I'm quite impressed with myself. I'm usually awful at making plans. That's not true, I'm good at making them, I'm just crap at sticking to them.

This chapter skips forward in time a bit, because if I don't it'll all become very boring. At least in my opinion. This should hopefully be interesting anyway.

29 days until the King Kong DVD is out in the UK. Can't wait…

Anyway, enjoy!

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**Chapter V: Just A Little More Time**

It was amazing to think that only a few months ago, the snow had been thick on the ground, Ann reflected as she floated in a bath. She had left New York with Denham in the autumn, late September, and they had returned just as the city started to enter its winter stage. It started out with biting cold, cold that threatened to whip your fingers numb with icy strokes, and an early darkness that made the who city more illuminated as the neon lights of the city's attractions came on earlier. It was a proper New York winter, and when Ann had left, she had felt glad that she would be back for it. In the winter, there were more shows, and more opportunities to make money. She could remember years where her June rent was still being paid by the money from the winter shows. People were more open to vaudeville and comedy at Christmas. With the promise of a new year, and new hope, they opened their hearts and their wallets, and in return, they were entertained. For a while. But soon the old qualms about money and time returned, and suddenly the audiences, who laughed eagerly in the winter, disappeared with the sun.

By February though, the magic of the darkness and the soft, white snow had disappeared. Everything was business-like as usual, back to minimal audiences and leaner paycheques. The snow refused to melt, and instead lay heaped in great piles by the sides of the roads, turning grey and yellow from so many people trampling through it. On occasion, fragile wintry sun broke through the almost permanent clouds, as thick as wool, but still the stinging wind burst through, blowing snow into her face and reddening her hands and face until they were raw.

Still, at the moment, the world looked beautiful to Ann. She liked being able to sit here, to relax in the warm water until she felt clean and ethereal, and to look out of the window. From her perspective, she could just see the tops of the buildings and the pale sky, opening upwards. She liked that. It gave her a great sense of peace. She liked it here at Jack's apartment, period.

It hadn't been a hard decision to move in here. Jack had offered, since he knew how much she hated her apartment. It was small, and she had to share it with several other girls from the vaudeville theatre, all of whom were gradually moving on, trying to go to other cities, where perhaps they had families, or where they thought they could get work, leaving her with a rent slip that was suddenly twice as large. It wasn't much of a place, only one bedroom and a vaguely comfortable sofa, and a bathroom with the grout around the stained and cracked tiles gradually growing mould, no matter how much it was cleaned. It was somewhere that reminded her of money, and the lack of it, which was part of the reason why she hated it, but the bigger reason was that it held too many memories of her naïve, hopeful life before she went aboard the SS Venture. It reminded her too much of the sheltered, innocent person she used to be, the girl who believed naively that the vaudeville shows would pick up, and that she had a cat in hell's chance of landing a part in one of Jack Driscoll's plays. She'd been glad to get out of there. It was time for a fresh start. A new life.

Moving into Jack's had been easy for the two of them. At first, Ann had thought that she should try to help out with money, offer to help with rent or something, just to prove to herself that she wasn't completely dependant. She'd spent so long being independent it was strange to suddenly feel like a kept woman. But that would only lead to an awkward conversation, she reasoned. She didn't have much money, and it used to be that every cent that came in or out depended entirely on whatever job she could get. Now though, she didn't have one. Half-heartedly, she'd looked around at the chorus lines, and what was left of the vaudeville theatres, but somehow that felt like going back to her old life. A part of her wanted to try out for some proper theatrical parts, actual acting, but though she didn't like to admit this to herself, she was scared. Scared of rejection, and scared that she would be discovered. She hadn't exactly been the most sociable person recently, preferring to stay with Jack, but of the few people she had seen, they had all done double-takes as understanding of who she was dawned on them. It seemed that the world wouldn't forget her as the girl who went to Skull Island, and tamed the beast. Who killed the beast, some of the papers would have her believe. It was easier to stay away from people, at least until she figured out how to lose this persona that had been thrust upon her.

But here, at Jack's, she was happy. She loved waking up every morning to another warm body next to hers, she loved listening to jazz music whilst sipping coffee in the mornings…and she loved knowing that she was loved. It was incredible, how amazing it felt.

She spent so much time lost in thought that she didn't notice the sky slowly darkening, and it wasn't until the pale lights began to illuminate the night face of the city that she realised how long she had been daydreaming for.

Muttering quietly a few good curses she'd picked up from some of the crew in the Lyric theatre, she got out of the now-cold bath, wrapping a towel around her damp frame. Thank goodness her hair was so short that it hadn't trailed down into the water. When she'd had her hair longer, a few years back, it had annoyed the hell out of her.

How much time had she got? Not enough. She and Jack were going out to dinner that night, and she wanted to look nice. Not just for Jack, though that was part of it. But also for herself. When she looked like someone else, it was easier to be someone else. Not the Ann Darrow who was alone and abandoned in empty theatres, and not the Ann Darrow who had fought her way through the wilderness on Skull Island. Just Ann. She could have the new, peaceful life she had always wanted.

Opening the door to the bathroom, she walked right into Jack, who, as per usual, was carrying papers and a book or three. It hadn't taken her long to realise that those were the essentials of his life, reading and writing, like hers was performing.

"I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep," he said. "We're going to have to go soon, so you'd better get ready."

"How could I not be ready?" she asked, with an edge of humour in her voice.

"Well, I think you look beautiful, as always," Jack replied, keeping up the banter, "but I think the restaurant might not be so appreciative."

She smiled. "I promise I'll be quick," she assured him before disappearing into their bedroom. She rifled through the wardrobe, looking for something suitable to wear, but as she scoured through the closet, she suddenly noticed something she'd forgotten about. The thin white dress, with tiny silver sequins like a starburst on the shoulders, was hanging there demurely, like it was innocent, virginal. But Ann knew otherwise. The more she looked at it, the more she could see black marks, like fingerprints, and black fur, where Kong had held her. The night he had died. Because of her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to get rid of the image. When she opened them again, the dress was as deceptively pure as it ever was. It was a trick her eyes had played on her, she knew that. But knowing that didn't stop the increase in her breathing, and the sudden terror that gripped her heart in a vice.

She firmly shut the wardrobe door, and resolved not to think about it anymore. But though she promised to do that, she couldn't stop the tiny chills going up her spine, or the deep unrest, hanging like a weight within her chest.

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Sorry for the lack of JackAnn stuff, but I think I'm having a dialogue brainblock. I'm having real trouble with dialogue today…ah well. I swear there will be more fluff soon though. Next chapter, I promise!

Please review!


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